


A Reunion

by servantofclio



Series: Jocelyn Hawke [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, but pre-romance, hints of Hawke/Varric, post-Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric being Viscount is the funniest thing Hawke's ever heard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This Hawke was never left in the Fade, and took on the journey to Weisshaupt instead.

Bran tells him dourly that there’s someone to see him, presumably the last on his calendar, and Varric just says “Yeah, whatever,” because it’s been a long day already. He doesn’t even look up from the fucked-up accounts he’s been going over. 

Then a light, familiar voice says, “Varric, what are you doing in the Viscount’s office?” 

He looks up and hastily takes off his reading glasses. Glasses or not, it’s definitely Hawke standing there in dusty traveling clothes. He stares at her for a long moment, slouching there like usual, like she never left, like she didn’t take off for Weisshaupt months and months ago and never writes. He’s frankly at a loss for words. Him, Varric Tethras. 

Finally he says, “I am the Viscount,” and Hawke blinks. 

“You’re the Viscount?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Of Kirkwall?” she says, like there’s somewhere else around here to be the Viscount of. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Hawke, where the hell have you been?” 

Instead of answering, she starts laughing. Uncontrollably, peals of laughter bursting out of her and wiping the lines off her face, wiping away the years and losses of the last decade. She laughs so hard she staggers and has to brace herself against one of the heavy, ornate chairs kept for the Viscount’s visitors, and then, still laughing, she tries to sit in the chair and misses, and slides down to the ground. Varric can’t even see her over the damned desk, but she’s still laughing. 

He sighs and hops out of his chair and comes around the desk. Hawke is half-sprawled on the floor, her back against the desk, clutching her midsection with both arms while she laughs. Varric stands there patiently, arms folded, waiting. 

She runs out of air eventually, and the laughter peters out into giggles, and finally she looks up at him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and says, “You. You’re the Viscount of Kirkwall. Aveline told me I’d better come up to the Viscount’s office. I’m amazed she managed to keep a straight face.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Varric says, thinking that he owes Aveline one, only he’s not sure one of what. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Hawke laugh like that. 

She doesn’t seem inclined to get up, and sighs and leans back against the desk, still grinning, stretching out her long legs in front of her. 

Varric thinks it over and sits down beside her. Tucks an arm around her shoulders, and Hawke leans in and rests her cheek against his shoulder with a little sigh. 

“You came back,” he says quietly, marveling a little. He honestly hadn’t been sure Hawke would ever set foot in Kirkwall again. 

She sighs again, wearily, like the years and losses are creeping back. “Of course I came back. Where else was I going to go?” 

Anywhere, he almost says. Back to Fereldan or hell, she could run away to Antiva or Rivain and just disappear. But he doesn’t actually want her anywhere but here, so he squeezes her shoulders a little tighter.


End file.
